二十 thereafter

roads crunched in my veins, the air thick with the scent of electrons. When I opened my box of tissues, a sense of calm washed over me. My mother's voice was comforting—twenty years from now, this town would change.

From an ancient stone bench to a grand hall, twenty years had passed, and my home had become a canvas of progress. A paper factory, once a small industrial space, now stood on the threshold of a bustling city. The buildings began to sway, the streets flow with life like a living organism. The town's greenery bloomed from humble seedlings, each sprouting higher as the years passed.

The robot had come—a 3D printer, a 5G network, an AI, everything in a package that seemed both ancient and new. When I first saw it, my mind was a mix of excitement and dread: could this be the future?

As we moved through the futuristic city, the streets became a dance between light and shadow. The robot sent us messages like electrons, sending alerts when we were about to stumble upon a hidden zone. It had been here before, as an AI in another town.

I stepped onto the train at the station, its wheels clicking with every move. A sign said, "You can't stay inside." My stomach twisted, and I ate fruit juice like a fruit salad. The passenger seat was a mirror now—black and bright, reflecting my faces with precision. It's twenty years into the future, and even when we're out and about, we seem as simple as electrons.

The town buzzed with life, with families learning to use 5G in their cars. The robot had come back for me—a new partner, this time. We explored a park that was alive with energy: a trail of robots splayed out on the grass, each one looking around and deciding where to go next.

The town's growth wasn't just about cities—cities had become towns. Small streets led to small neighborhoods, where houses were taller than they were wide, their windows shone like stars in the night sky. The robot had brought a new life into the park: it watched over each robot, keeping an eye on its journey.

As I moved through the futuristic park, the city buzzed with robots and people. One by one, the 5G network sent messages to my cell phone. The robot was listening—its voice bright, as bright as a ghost in the dark.

In the end, twenty years had come. But it wasn't just about the changes: it was about how we moved from home to town. From streets to futuristic cities, the road ahead had never been longer.

And when I finally sat down with my box of tissues, I found myself looking at paper again—this time on a 20th century computer. The town where I was born had become twenty years old. But that wasn't just about me—it was about the future.